Disclaimer:All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.

"All courses of action are risky, so prudence is not in avoiding danger (it's impossible), but calculating risk and acting decisively. Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth. Develop the strength to do bold things, not the strength to suffer."

-Niccolo Machiavelli

Chapter 1 – Judged

I'm a little older now, and I guess I would like to say, a little more learned in the ways of the world; a little wiser and perhaps a tad more mature. But if I were, would I really be reading a gossip column while waiting for my father to stand trial for murder and miscellaneous?

Don't think so.

April's glaring eye caught mine. She yanked the magazine from my hands and crumpled it before throwing it on my lap. Instead, it landed next to me shoe. "Enough," she said, her lips barely breaking open. I rolled my eyes and picked the crumbled parchment down. The words "Oliver Wood's sizzling scandalous divorce" stood out like the Harry Potter kid next to the new Minister of Magic. I sighed, and tucked the magazine beneath my arse and waited.

England had apparently changed since I'd left. I won't lie; it stung to know that the world I once called home had gone on with me gone. I always thought of myself as rather important.

Next to me, Adrian yawned and stretched his legs. I snickered the moment he hit his toe against the metal bar of the seat in front of him. A witch with a lopsided purple hat turned around and glared at him, but he seemed too concerned coddling his foot to care.

A noise on the far end of the room caught my attention. I hadn't realised how bubbly and chatty the room was until it grew silent enough you could hear a pin drop. I held my breath and watched as the two large marble doors opened up, creaking as if they were lacking oil. Half the room seemed to brace itself, waiting for the fateful moment in which the dementor's cold would freeze their lungs; and as soon as they realised that dementors were no longer allowed they all exhaled like an orchestra.

I didn't.

My eyes were focused on the haggard and old looking man who was walking with difficulty. Two wizards walked beside him, one holding the prisoner's arm. His long coal black hair, once smooth as silk, hung unclean and matted obstructing his face. Inside me, my heart was beating loud enough to make me deaf. I watched drenched in agony as my father took a seat in the lone chair in the middle of the rounded room. My eyes closed with the finality of the chains that had wrapped around his wrists.

Beside me, Adrian grabbed my hand and pulled it on his lap. I felt, rather than saw, April stiffen. For a moment, no one spoke.

"This court now calls upon Antonious Acacius Montieth," the speaker's voice, a scrubby old man whose name was XXX, spoke; his voice, augmented magically, jumped off of the walls, starling me into opening my eyes. "For trial under the new restored order, under charges of allying with the group called the Death Eaters; of wishing ill to parts of the wizarding and muggle society, and of premeditated murder and torture."

My eyes were fixed on my father whose head was bowed down; vile rose up my throat. I dug my nails into Adrian's calloused hand and he squealed. "Antonious Acacius Montieth, do you consent to tell the truth and nothing but the truth," whispers aroused in the rows nearby me. I had heard them before; I had been sitting at this same place for an entire day, waiting for the moment my father would be judged for his crimes. Everyone around me did not hold the slightest suspicion of innocence: all the people brought forward were found guilty, and condemned. And all had agreed to one last, if not first, act of honesty: they confessed, praying, for mercy.

"I will tell the truth," my father said after a moment's silence, his eyes darting wildly over the stands. The audience reeled in distrust, but kept quiet.

The prosecution gave him no time to prepare. "Antonious Acacius Montieth," the wizard proceeded, his voice booming in the tight room, suffocating. "Do you declare yourself guilty or innocent of being in alliance with Lord Voldemort-" the audience shivered, -"and his band of misfits, the Death Eaters?"

"Guilty."

"Did you engage in murder, torture and other illegal activities which resulted in the death, traumatization or otherwise damaged the livelihood of wizards, witches, muggles and other magical and non-magical living beings and creatures?"

"Yes."

"Do you agree with the extremist belief that only pureblood wizards and witches are fit to live; that muggles, squibs and muggle-borns are inferior and therefore must be killed or slaved?"

"I did."

Well, I could've choked in my spit and by the shouts of 'liar', so did most of the people. "Did you or did you not commit murder against these people whom you thought worthless, and those who sought to defend them?"

"I did but I-"

"Did you or did you not torture those same people whom you thought worthless, and those who sought to defend them?"

"I did, but I-"

"Did you or did you not support a regime that would have enslaved and massacred part of the wizarding and magical world?"

"But I repent!" my father's shout cut through the air like a dry slap. The prosecutor looked stupefied and at a loss for how to proceed. "I do repent my past actions and beliefs."

An elderly witch leaned forward, her light blue bonnet almost falling off of her head. "You repent, Mr. Montieth?" she asked, her voice as sweet as cotton candy. I sneered her way, knowing full well she couldn't see me. The room had quieted down.

"I do, I do repent," and then the shouting started.

"Liar!"

"Murderer!"

"Death Eater!"

"Silence!" the prosecutor stood up and was looking around at all of us in the audience. I couldn't see him this far off, but the extent of his annoyance could be felt. "Let the man speak," with a final huff, he took his seat again and resumed staring at my father.

"I regret what it has done to my family," my father said, speaking like an old man. When had he aged so much? The last time I had laid eyes on him had been on that cursed ball shortly before I run away. He hadn't looked as emaciated as he did now, a mere shell of a man. "My wife… my children… it has been my entire fault."

The prosecutor leaned in, narrowing his eyes. "And what about other people's wives and children? Do you regret the pain and suffering your actions have caused them?"

My father looked up and held the wizard's gaze. "No, I cannot. I can only find enough humanity in me to regret what has befallen my own family." The entire audience gasped. Witches and wizards around me shook their heads in either disapproval or disgust. Beside me, Adrian grabbed a hold of my forearm and squeezed.

"That he found some humanity in him is quite the achievement," I whispered, leaning closer to him so April wouldn't hear me.

"I do not ask to be spared," my father continued, oblivious to the turmoil of repugnance that his last well-chosen words had created. "I only ask that my remaining children be granted peace."

"We have no reason to suspect any of your remaining children to have participated or allied themselves with the Death Eaters. We have thoroughly investigated the manner," the prosecutor continued, avoiding my father's eyes and shuffling a large pile of parchment. "You are aware that your son Nicholas perished during the Hogwarts Battle?"

My father bowed his head. "I saw his body amongst the dead."
"And that your sister, Adelaine Oakley and her husband Lawrence Oakley were found murdered by Death Eaters last December?"

"Yes."

"Then pray tell, why would you think what is left of your family would have no peace?" my father kept his head bowed, but did not speak. "Your best hope is that they may find their own peace, knowing what horrors two members of their own blood committed."

"You don't understand," my father said. I saw his wrist shake and make the chains rattle. "My daughter, my beautiful daughter... All I wanted was for them to be happy."

The prosecutor snorted. "And a jolly good job you did with that. Be glad three of your kids didn't turn out like you." I sent another glare in the prosecutor's direction. A tear fell from an eyelash and into my eye. I brushed it off with the back of my hand, and avoided Adrian's gaze.

"With no further ado," the prosecutor continued in an almost bored tone. "Considering the accused's own admission of guilt to all of his charges, this jury has no choice but to sentence Antonious Montieth to life in Azkaban, with no chance of parole. Any last words?"

I fixed my eyes on my father; my heart was beating fast enough to break my ribs. "May I see them?"

"Who?"

"My daughter, my sons, my grandchild…"

"Visitations are allowed in Azkaban only. Take him away."

I watched as my father's eyes bulged out of his drained skull; they roamed over the audience desperately as two buff wizards walked towards him. "No, they won't! Please! Elizabeth! Armand! William!" I closed my eyes, willing myself not cry over a man who never had the consciousness to know how much he had hurt his family when it mattered. I opened them only when I heard the main door close, and was sure I wouldn't see him again.

"Hurry up, let's go," April's voice nagged not a second later. She grabbed a hold of my right elbow and pulled upwards. I groaned, refusing to move but she only yanked that much harder. "Elizabeth don't be a child, we need to leave before the next trial begins." With a sigh, I yanked my elbow out of her grip, grabbed my handbag and copy of Witch Weekly, and straightened up. The suffocating mood that had gripped the room had been replaced by a much livelier one as people turned to their neighbors to chat and cheer the imprisonment of one more Death Eater.

I followed my sister in law, who seemed to be all but supporting William, as we snaked through the rows and rows of wizards and witches who had showed up for the day's entertainment. After the Battle of Hogwarts, all of the Death Eaters and other suspected people had been rounded up as evidence upon evidence of their evil doings was collected through various sources. Trials began within three weeks of the battle, and had been relentless ever since.

It had been a while.

No one spoke as we made our way up the elevators and towards the atrium; we had spent enough time talking earlier, speculating, and no one was surprised. April kept whispering things in William's ear to which he responded with a sob. I caught Armand rolling his eyes at our eldest brother's sensitivity, but I couldn't agree with him. After all, it wasn't every day your father was convicted of murder; it also wasn't a normal day when he told an audience full of strangers that he regretted all the pain he caused his family. I think that was the closest he ever got to saying he loved us.

"I suppose you are headed towards your old flat?" April said, catching me off guard. I looked over my shoulder to where Adrian was standing and nodded. "Are you certain you don't want to stay with us for a little while?"

I shook my head. "No offense, April but I think we've spend enough time together lately. I really want my own bed." I felt Adrian squirm behind me, but decided not to pay the brat any more attention.

April and William shared a look, but then she shrugged. "Alright then. You can come visit us for lunch whenever," she said and with a final look, they walked towards the fireplaces and disappeared. That left Armand, Adrian and me.

"I heard you took a flatmate, though?" Armand asked, looking pointedly at Adrian who shrugged.

"London is expensive, mate. I needed help paying the bills. He's a nice kid though, Corey," he hurried to add seeing Armand's eyebrows narrowing. "A bit on the young side, if you catch my meaning."
Armand nodded and began walking towards the fireplaces. In the two sends we had dwindled talking, a line up had formed. "Any of you know where Francis or Gwendolyn is?"

"Gwen had training today and couldn't make it. Francis was probably not interested." He had written to me, actually, to say he thought it better not to attend; something about being unable to hold his tongue or wand if he saw my father, his uncle again. I know Francis blamed him for his parents' death, and I secretly didn't blame him.

We waited in silence as the line ahead of us slowly receded. When it was Armand's turn, he grabbed some powder and turned around.

"You alright kid?" I shrugged and he sighed. "Well, you better not be a stranger now that you are back in town."

"Perhaps if you weren't a prick I'd spend more time with you," I replied giving him a hug, which he returned.

"I'll have to drop by soon; check out the place my little sister is staying in after all," he said and with one last smile, he stepped into the green fire and disappeared.

It was now our turn. Adrian reached around me and grabbed a large amount of powder. He motioned for me to go first. I stepped into the fire, trying not to giggle as the flamed licked my exposed legs and waited for Adrian to join me. The ministry fireplace was large, but it still felt too close for comfort. "The leaky cauldron!" he shouted, and then we were spinning. And then I fell arse-first unto a cold, dirty stone flood.

"What the hell, Adrian?" I shrieked the second he landed, thankfully, first face. "Why aren't we at the flat?"

He busied with rubbing his elbow and getting up before speaking. "We are experiencing some problems with the floo network. Last time Corey tried it he got stuck for three hours."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" He flashed me a grin and offered me his elbow, which I took before we exited the pub and walked out into muggle London.

It was one of those few beautiful days in early autumn, and the street was full of people. Our shared flat, which we now shared with one of Adrian's Puddlemere team members, was only a few blocks away from the old pub inside of muggle London. Adrian draped his arm across my shoulder as we walked.

"Now that we are alone, how are you?" he asked.

I pretended to look inside the window of a French bakery to earn some time. How was I? My father had just been given a life sentence (well earned); only a few months ago my entire family had been stripped of three members (even if I never cared much for Nicholas, but I would miss Aunt Adelaine), and I was back in England after being exiled throughout the duration of the war. Not that I had been inactive, far from, but it still felt like there was a hole in history that I had missed. Gwen had fought during the Battle of Hogwarts and probably as part of the underground resistance. I know Adrian fought as well, as did Armand. William was in Luxembourg with me, April, and a bunch of other purebloods that had managed to escape before being conscripted, imperiused, or murdered.

"I could be a whole lot worse, to be honest," I said, staring straight ahead. We had reached the block of our flat and Adrian was already opening the front door. I followed behind him, and stared at the eighteenth-century stairs defiantly. "I will walk up all of you, you little bugger, and you shall not rob me of my breath!" I heard Adrian chuckle, and hit him square on the shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad to hear everything is not taking too much of a toll," Adrian said two floors in, two to go. I already had a stitch on my side and the bloody bastard was a good half a stair ahead of me. "Today being your first day back home after the war and all…"
"Adrian," I gasped as we turned around into the third floor. One more flight to go! "Whatever you need to tell, spill it now before I recover my ability to breath."
He chuckled. "You know about Corey right? Nice lad that one-"
"Adrian."

"-well, there has been a small and insignificant change to our lineup this year."

I rolled my eyes, but he didn't see me as he had already reached the fourth floor. "I honestly don't care about Puddlemere's line up for the season Ad-"

"I wasn't talking about Puddlemere," he was standing so close I almost fell backwards. He grabbed me by the forearm and helped me climb the last three steps. "I was talking about our living arrangements."

I stood still, cradling my stomach and leaning against the wall. I glared at him. "What is it?"

Adrian flashed another smile and walked over to our door which was conveniently close to the staircase. "Well, how do you feel about three blokes for the price of two?"

"Adrian," I said through clenched teeth, peeling myself off of the wall and walking to stand next to him. He had his key in his hand and it was already inside the doorknob. "What are you talking about?"

"Long story really, but Luke's cousin is a fantastic magical contractor –I'm certain you'll love your new room."

"Who's Luke? And what did you do to my room? Adrian!" I tried to grab a hold of his forearm but the door opened before he could twist the knob. There, standing all dressed up, was the one and only Oliver Wood.